


An Unquenchable Flame

by cellartater



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Cassandra Pentaghast, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, POV Cassandra, Romance, lavellan's got game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellartater/pseuds/cellartater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the attack on Haven, the Inquisition searches for its lost Herald.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unquenchable Flame

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this little snippet that came to me one night! I noticed there was a serious lack of Cassandra/F! Inquisitor, and I felt the need to help remedy that.

They had been searching for hours. Cassandra didn’t even know why; she’d seen the avalanche come roaring down upon the Herald, her life extinguished in a sacrifice made meaningless as Corypheus flew off in the talons of his shackled archdemon.

  
Solas was convinced that she was out there – “J _ust one more hour. She_ is _alive, I am sure of it._ ” he would urge them, leading the search parties out, one after the other into the deep cold of the Frostback Mountains. Cassandra wanted it so badly to be true, but she knew that even if the Herald had survived the avalanche, she would now be buried under hundreds of feet of crushing snow, slowly suffocating.

  
Cassandra gritted her teeth, sucked in a breath of sharp, icy air. She would not think of that. She would find the Herald – she had to. She had already failed the Maker once, and she would not fail Him again.

  
Time slipped by. The unchanging whiteness of the surroundings made it difficult to mark how long had passed, and twice they had to stop and return to camp when the blizzard became too dangerous to justify searching any longer. Cassandra could see hope draining slowly away from her companions – Cullen alternated between staring out towards they way they had come and staring up at the sky, clenching and unclenching his fists. Solas was pacing frenetically a little ways away from the cluster of tents, muttering to himself in Elvhen, and Josephine sat by the fire, knees drawn up to her chest and mouth trembling. The soldiers and refugees gathered in sparse clumps, most sitting in silence or tending to the wounded, their eyes downcast. Fire bubbled up in Cassandra’s chest. This would not be how it ended; she would not allow it. She got to her feet stiffly.

  
“We are sending out another search party.” she said, her voice scratchy and hoarse. Cullen looked away from the sky, turning to face her.

  
“But, the storm –“

  
Cassandra set her jaw. “I will lead it myself. We cannot abandon the Herald now.”

  
“Cassandra, I - we don’t even know if she’s _alive_ -“

  
Solas appeared at her elbow, eyes wild and fey, hands twisting around his staff. She had never seen the apostate so agitated. “I will go.”

  
Cullen sighed. “You… are right, of course. Let me inform the men.”

* * *

 

The three of them set out into the storm, Cullen in front and Cassandra and Solas fanning out to the sides.

  
“Look for snowdrifts!” Solas called out over the whistling of the wind. “She could have fallen and been covered!”

  
They searched, and searched, moving further away from the camp and towards the canyon they had come through. Cassandra started violently, hand halfway to her sword when she realized it was Solas who had grabbed her arm so firmly.

“Look! Do you see that? Towards the trees!”

  
Cassandra’s heart doubled its pace. She strained her eyes past the distant figure of Cullen, into the blizzard. “I don’t see…” she began to say, when suddenly Cullen cried out.

  
“She’s over here! Oh, thank the Maker.” He struggled through the snow frantically, laden down with his fur and armor.

  
Cassandra ran, crashing through the snow in a way that she was sure looked absolutely ridiculous, heart pounding wildly in her ears. _Oh, Maker, please let it be her. Please, let her have survived. Maker, let it be the Herald_ , she prayed. She blew past Cullen, arriving at the mouth of the canyon just in time to see a slight figure a few yards away stumble and fall headlong into the snow.

  
She rushed to its side, kneeling and turning it over gently. She was met with the face of the Herald of Andraste, eyes closed and breath shallow, lips blue with cold. Small flakes of frost clung to her cheeks and eyelashes.

  
“Herald,” she said urgently. “Herald, you must get up. It is only a little way to camp. You are going to be alright, we’re almost there.” The woman in her arms did not stir. “Lavellan, please.” She whispered, touching her icy cheek. They were so close – she could not lose her now.

  
Solas arrived, breathing heavily, and knelt down beside her. He laid a hand on her brow, and soft white tendrils of light flickered around it. “She is freezing to death. I can make a small fire here, but we must get her back to camp as soon as possible.”

  
Cassandra furrowed her brow, determined. “We leave now. I will bring her back.” She hoisted the body of the unconscious elf, cradling her close to her chest. The Herald was impossibly light; Cassandra worried absentmindedly if she had been getting enough to eat. She began back towards the warm light of camp, moving as quickly as she could without risking tripping and sending them both into the frigid snow.

* * *

 

They forged on, Cullen bringing up the back and Solas at her side, sending little warm waves of magical fire over Lavellan’s body and checking her Mark periodically. They were nearing the camp when the Herald stirred slightly in Cassandra’s arms and slowly opened her eyes.

  
“Herald? Herald, can you hear me?” Cassandra asked in a rush, nearly stumbling over her own feet. The woman remained silent, staring up at the sky sightlessly.

  
“O Falon’Din, Lethanavir, guide my feet, calm my soul,” she murmured softly. “I have ever been a loyal servant of your brother. I am not afraid.” Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra saw Solas’s face twist into something ugly, and he dropped behind Cassandra to walk next to Cullen. Lavellan’s eyes fell from the sky onto Cassandra’s face.

  
“And yet I am met with such beauty,” she breathed, and feebly brought her arm up to touch Cassandra’s face gently, tracing the scar on her cheek. Cassandra flushed a brilliant shade of red. “It must be Mythal herself who leads me to my rest.” Her arm fell limply at her side, and she closed her eyes. “Ma ghilana mir din’an,” she mumbled, slipping back into unconsciousness.

  
Cassandra opened her mouth, but only a croak came out. She cleared her throat a few times and called out to her companions behind her. “Solas, I need you up here,” she declared. “I believe the Herald is feverish, and possibly delirious.” She hoped fervently that the color on her face would be chalked up to the biting wind that was whipping past them. Solas was at her side again in an instant, passing his hand over the Mark and pressing his palm to Lavellan’s forehead.

  
“You are correct. It is just as well that we have arrived – we must take her to the healers immediately.” he said quickly. Cassandra made her way over to where the sick and wounded lay – _too many_ – and carefully laid Lavellan down on an empty cot. The healers immediately rushed in, crowding around the Herald and hurriedly pushing Cassandra out of the way. She stood away, awkward and unsure, as they tended to Lavellan. She touched her cheek, along her scar, where Lavellan had caressed her. She flushed again – _I am_ not _doing this_ – and walked back to her own tent, steps perhaps a little lighter than they were before.

**Author's Note:**

> Ma ghilana mir din'an: Guide me into death


End file.
